


La Cuisine du Diable, Interlude I: Une Convergence des Diables

by Judy_The_Dreamer



Series: La Cuisine du Diable [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail as a hungry college student, Abigail is Hannibal's adopted daughter, Emergency Meeting, Gen, Hannibal can be a doting father, Murder Neighbourhood Community
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7857580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judy_The_Dreamer/pseuds/Judy_The_Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Food-critic Freddie Lounds is on a mission: uncovering all the dirt she can on Hannibal Lecter's precious restaurant! If only she knew La Rosette fleurie has a whole lot more of strangeness on offer.</p><p>In which the friendly Murder Neighbourhood community reacts to the threat of small-scale journalism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Cuisine du Diable, Interlude I: Une Convergence des Diables

**Author's Note:**

> This prologue has been hanging around on my computer for the last couple weeks and I thought it would be nice to post it as an 'appetizer' for what may follow. I'm open for suggestions of who should be part of the Murder Neighbourhood Community! ;)  
> Please review, send some kudo's or even subscribe when you feel like it!

There was something inexplicably charming about _La Rosette fleurie_ after closing hours. With the warm glow of the setting sun pouring in through the high glass windows, Abigail could nearly see the mask of high-society glamour melt away as the staff slowly began to relax. 

Mr. Gideon had just shown the last of the guests out and made a grand show of locking up the front of the restaurant, while various members of the wait staff began to flit around the building. Clearing off tables, polishing wood, mopping floors and whisking off all glassware to the industrial dishwasher. Honestly, Abigail felt kind of lazy around them. Every day after college she’d pop in for an hour or so to see her adoptive father and occasionally get a free meal out of the kitchen.

Today, however, Hannibal had been called away to take care of his newest business endeavour, still he’d left the kitchen staff with the order to set a healthy meal aside for his daughter. It wasn’t like Abigail couldn’t cook, but college seemed to devour the time she normally would have spent on cooking up a decent meal. Hannibal had almost gleefully stepped in and offered her a special spot at the restaurant.

In the beginning, Abigail had come in the early evenings when there were still regular diners left, but the curious stares that followed her around the room had made her so uncomfortable, she’d quit coming altogether for a while. Only after Hannibal came to fear she would starve herself in anxiety, did she come back, this time after-hours.

It didn’t matter to her that the staff was constantly hovering in the background, in fact, she liked watching their routine and the light-hearted small talk that filled the otherwise regal establishment. She knew every member of staff at least by name and more often than not lingered on after finishing her meal to share a few words with them.

There was very little judgement of anyone’s past among the staff. Unsurprising, really, when you thought about the baggage some of them carried along. Abigail could just imagine the horror on the posh diners faces as they discovered what their perfectly behaved servers had been up to. Criminals, murderers, people comfortable with their inner darkness. In _La Rosette fleurie_ morbid had a place, and Abigail fit just right in.

‘Can I take that?’ Abigail rapidly blinked to clear her head and looked up to find Nicholas Boyle standing shyly by her table, his hand already outstretched to take her empty plate away.  _Ah, the anomaly._

For the life of her Abigail couldn’t quite figure out which place Nicholas Boyle occupied in the ranks of devils her father had assembled. Too upright to be a criminal, and his shyness wasn’t the sort that obscured a murderous rage.

‘Sure.’ She leaned back as he stacked her used utensils. ‘Did you have any interesting tables today?’

He gave her a startled smile, probably since she hadn’t really bothered to really talk with him about any other subject than the weather and college schedules. ‘It’s been mostly calm, though that food critic has been in again. You know: red hair, designer suit and an attitude primed to throw you off…’

‘Ah, Freddie Lounds.’ _Shit_.

Suddenly Hannibal’s curt replies that afternoon during their phone call made complete sense. A journalist – even though food journalism hardly equated suspicion towards illegal activities – on their doorstep so soon after opening their premium service could only mean that her father would be upping his battle plan for the next few weeks. And that meant a busload full of high-strung psychopaths would soon be dropping by the Devil’s abode for a security briefing. _Great, no Friday old school movie night for me then…_

‘I’m sure it will be fine though, Abigail,’ Nicholas broke through her reverie with easy enthusiasm. ‘The food’s incredible and even then I’m sure Dr Lecter could charm the pants off any member of the press.’

The image of the regal Hannibal Lecter accepting a bunch of pants with his characteristic half-smile made Abigail choke back on a laugh. ‘Or chew them out.’ _Literally._

Nicholas’ smile was less hesitant now. ‘I don’t know about that. Dr. Lecter always seems so collected, like nothing in the world can faze him.’

_If only. I bet he’d have a lot less on his plate._


End file.
